Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Motion Sickness

Peanut -

The last several days have been painfully difficult for Momma.  The combination of intensely missing you, facing the holidays without my darling little boy, powering through the final weeks of our pregnancy, and navigating intense pressure and stress at work - it has all resulted in a level of grief and sorrow I haven't felt in months.  There will be good moments, and even good days, but when the lows hit they are a powerful, debilitating kick to my stomach.  And heart.

I was warned this could happen.  As the span of time between the lowest lows and the moderately normal moments begins to widen, it's almost as if the body and mind want to forget.  They want to no longer be considered pros at handling grief.  At protecting the person from themselves.  They need a break.  The almost inpenetrable force field comes down.

The end result for Momma has been a sensation somewhat akin to motion sickness.  The normal moments are jarring, out of place, and uncomfortable.  They give me a sense of vertigo.  And when the darkness sweeps in, it simply flattens me.  My body aches, my heart feels as if it's being squeezed by pliers, and curling up in bed seems to be the best option.

The world is ready for me to be "normal" again.  To others it probably seems like a really, really long time since you died.  That I should be through the forest of grief.  But, it's almost worse now because I've lost the insulated protection my body and brain once afforded me.  The grief is sneaky, and leaves me raw, exposed.  My focus is gone, and I'm irritable.  My temper is quick to flare up, and my level of patience is low.

Peanut, I want to make you proud.  I want to be the best Momma I can be.  But, as I run out of pictures of you, as I realize there are very few images left that are under a year old, I am devastated.  I want to see you running after Henry The Dog in the yard.  I want to hear you talking and laughing, getting excited for Christmas.  I want to look down and see your little outstretched arms begging me, "Uuuph Momma!" as I pick you up, swing you around and give you a giant kiss while you hug me tightly.

And, right now, I just want the world to let me cry and cry and cry.  I cry because I love you soooooooo much.  How much?  Well, you know, Peanut.  To the moon and back.

- Momma

(picture from last December)

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